Friendemies: Version II
by AlbertG
Summary: Against the First Buffy and company were fighting for their lives and the fate of the world. They are on their own. Or, are they? exactly who and what are these people coming to help? ver. 2
1. Chapter 1

THIS STATEMENT MUST ACCOMPANY THE STORY 'FRIENDEMIES' IF DISTRIBUTED. THIS STORY IS FREE OF CHARGE AND MAY NOT BE SOLD OR EXCHANGED FOR FINANCIAL RETURN IN ANY FORM. THIS DEDICATION MUST ACCOMPANY ANY DISTRUBUTION OF THIS STORY.

-COPYRIGHT/DISCLAIMER NOTICE-

"_Buffy The Vampire Slayer_", it's characters, certain mystical devices and/or references to such, from the television show, are registered trademarks of, Mutant Enemy Productions and created by Joss Whendon. Characters, names, and all related indicia are trademarks of WB Network Entertainment.

"_The Addams family'_ was created by American cartoonist Charles Addams. _'The Addams Family Values'_ written by Paul Rudnick and directed by Barry Sonnenfeld. And it is here that the characters seen in this story are based on. I own nothing here except the characters mentioned of my own creation.

Certain characters in this story are mine. And these are the creation of the author who is solely responsible for them as such. Neither Studio is responsible for the content of this story.

Note: This is an AU, of course, of the last episode of BTVS. A what if, as it were, if certain people came to their aide. Second, this is an updated version, cleaned up and added to. Hopefully it will be more enjoyable to everyone. Please enjoy.

_**Friendemies**_

_**Version II**_

_**May 2003**_

_**Sunnydale, California**_

_**Sunnydale High**_

The Turok-Han were swarming. There numbers were in the tens of thousands and growing. Here, here at this very spot where the mystic and natural world met was the chokepoint. Here is where the destiny of Earth's future would be decided…

"Buffy, duck!"

Buffy Anne Summers, Vampire Slayer, didn't hesitate for an instant, because if Xander screamed liked that, it meant only one thing. The young woman ducked as the clawed hand of a huge Turok-Han's swung past the area where her head had been a mere instant earlier. The proto-vampire things were fast, but the Slayer was faster. Slayers were born to be faster and stronger than the prey they hunted. It was a magical trait and if the young woman wasn't, then the Slayer in her adjusted accordingly, becoming stronger, faster, deadlier. In other words, Buffy and Faith, the two senior Slayers were becoming more powerful every second in order to stand against the threats now facing them.

Moving at such speed caused her to slip as her coordination was still adjusting to her heightened senses speed and power. It would take a few minutes to do so but in this situation that was an eternity. While she regained her footing, the mystic Scythe in her hand seemed almost to move on its own accord, slicing the ancient vampire from crouch to head. The result was that the creature began turning to putrid-smelling dust before Buffy had completed the movement. The next instant, she had forgotten all about that demon as two more of its brethren jumped her. Also nearly forgotten was her stomach wound given to her by a vampire's claw that had almost eviscerated her from behind. But forgetting about it didn't mean that she could ignore it. the wound was healing at a phenomenal rate, the young woman wasn't one hundred percent yet.

* * *

Nearby, Faith Lehane, known to some in another timeline as the Dark Slayer, Slayer Sister to the Elder Slayer–a name Buffy hated but it still stuck–but that's another story–dueled against two opponents of her own, dancing and jabbing, turning the ancient vampires into dusk even as more of them took the places of their brethren. Many of the baby Slayers were doing well, better than she expected and she was so proud, but the odds were against them and getting worse by the moment. The babies were powerful, but they were still dying, and each death burned in Faith's gut because there was nothing she could do. This was more than war. It was a stand against the forces of extinction. If they survived, then she and the survivors would grieve later.

The look of determination mixed with hopelessness was etched on Faith's face, but it wasn't stopping her from destroying as many of those monstrosities as possible before she was taken. There were far too many of the creatures trying to swarm them for any possible hope of victory. Of course, that didn't mean that she and the others wouldn't take as many of them with her as she could.

Her fighting had taken her close to two potentials, well, full Slayers now, as of two minutes ago, both of which couldn't have been more than fifteen years old, fighting for their lives with swords, hatchets, and stabbing weapons against the kind of vampire that 'modern' vampires feared.

These prehistoric vampiric Neanderthals were the ancient demons, so-called primordial killing machines. They were one of the strains of true vampires, but of a species that hadn't walked the world of man since the time of the Beginning. Unlike the types Faith usually fought, these possessed only rudimentary intelligence coupled with the instincts of alpha-class predators. They were fearless and stronger than the far majority of modern vampires that the Slayer and her family were used to combating. They were relentless and nothing except complete destruction stopped them from attacking their prey. And it wouldn't be just humans. Animals, whales, anything with blood would fall victim to the slaughter once humans were extinct. Earth would become a graveyard filled with nothing but Turok-Han feeding off each other while their master, the First gloried in his victory. Death was the gift of the Slayer and Faith and her sisters dispensed that gift to every vampire close enough to ask for it.

Who could imagine that there was a cavern full of monsters below the local high school? Tens, maybe hundreds of thousands, maybe millions of vampires lived there waiting for this day that the seal keeping them trapped to finally be broken so that they could feed the way they were meant to. All they had to do was to climb a two-mile-high cliff and break through the meager defense forces defending the forever-to-be-cursed Sunnydale High school.

Like most of the Sunnydale defenders, she was at heart sarcastic. Idly she wondered how finals would have gone if the students knew what was underneath their basement waiting to get out, most likely during gym period or maybe, lunch. She suspected that there would have been a lot of 'F's given out that day.

The first two dozen of the closest creatures had made it up the sheer cliff, all of them almost delirious with the anticipated taste for fresh blood. The unrestrained lust for non-Turok-Han blood had driven them mad and were relatively easily dispatched. Behind them, climbing the mile-high cliff were tens of thousands more, each one starving for the taste of freedom and the orgy of slaughter and fresh blood that would follow. California would be overrun within three days and then the rest of the country and then the world would follow, drowned in an orgy of blood. The authorities would react too slowly, and that hesitation would doom the world. The First Evil would win as it became corporeal and then nothing would stop it.

Would their victims become Turok-Han? She didn't know and she didn't care to find out.

* * *

Sixteen potentials, correction, they were all Slayers now because of Willow's actions, were fighting in a united fury that brought a smile to Buffy's inner Slayer as well as herself. For the first time, Buffy could feel the First of All Slayers inside her totally ecstatic for the hunt and the glory of the kill against mankind's true enemies. For the first time ever, she had daughters, daughters that were united against a common enemy. They were young, all of them, just barely learning to function with their newly awakened powers. But they fought with an instinctive predatory ferocity that made the Ancient Mother proud. Knives, axes, swords and crossbows went against claws, fangs, and the insanity of mindless killers.

_The few against the many._

Buffy Summers turned and threw the scythe to Faith and dropped to the ground as blood flowed from her stomach where she'd been slashed. Her healing factor had slowed her down now making her more of a liability than asset. Here, a weak Slayer was a dead one as no mercy was given and none received against this relentless enemy.

Time slowed as she took in the brutal fight happening all around her. The vampires were focusing on Faith now as she was considered the primary threat. Bethany or Beth, who couldn't have been any more than thirteen years of age, went down under no fewer than three of the vampires clamped onto both sides of her neck and shoulder, ripping her apart in the process.

Buffy blotted out the screams.

"How sad," whispered a too familiar voice. "You brought a little girl here to save the world and the only thing she did was to die. What were you thinking?"

Buffy looked up to see a reflection of herself. The First Evil had taken her form once again and was mocking her in its hour of triumph.

"Oohh, I bet that hurts," it said. The white dress it wore began to leak blood at the site of Buffy's wound. "Oh, no! Mommy, this mortal wound feels all itchy. If I try hard, I can imagine what it feels like. It's all icky. Makes me so tired. Makes me want to lie down and rest for a bit. How does it make you feel?" it asked as it smiled at her as innocently as pure evil could.

Buffy was having none of that. "It makes me feel like you're going to lose," the woman retorted.

The unliving image laughed. "You pulled a nice trick. You came pretty close to smacking me down. What more do you want?" it asked. "Your defiant amuses me." It paused for a moment as it mused out loud. "You know, I've always wanted to say that." Once again, the thing with her face smiled. "That's what I like about you, defiant to the last and you make me smile! You pulled a nice trick and came close to almost smacking me down. What more do you want? Oh, well. The Seal of Danzalthar is open and it'll never close again. I'll make sure of that. You played a good game, but it's game over. The world loses and it's your fault because you were too incompetent to win. You should have known that all of that blond dye would affect your, oh-so small brain."

Buffy glared at the First and smirked at it despite her pain. "Why should I listen to you? You're nothing but a spirit that can't shut up. And, for such an old, oops, I mean ancient creature," she corrected, "you have lousy taste in clothes. I mean after all this time, with all of your power, you couldn't think of something better than copying me?" Defiant, she stood, her strength returning despite the grievous wound, which was already starting to heal. "What are you the First of, bad taste?" She smirked reveling in the insults she now threw at the foul ancient. "Wow. That would really make you evil." She turned and in a burst of strength and defiance knocked several Turok-Han off the cliff back into the cavern. They fell smashing into the ground and trampled by their fellow vampires. A few of the weaker ones were preyed upon by their fellows but most fought back and survived. Angered, but unhurt and starving, they began the long climb back up the cliff and to freedom and the upcoming orgy. Those that were injured became food for the starving hordes.

"I will see you rot like the dead," the First hissed even as another vampire lunged at one of the longest surviving Slayer in history.

* * *

It was a fact that Alexander Harris, known as Xander for short, shouldn't have been in the cavern with the Slayers in the first place. All of the young women were stronger, more powerful, and dare he say better able to defend themselves than he could ever hope to be. But those small setbacks wouldn't stop him from doing everything he could to help stem the tide. Apparently though, his luck was holding true to form. He, despite being a mere man, was the self-designated 'keeper of the bridge', trying to make sure that none of the ancient proto-vampires got past him in their attempts to get into the high school and from there to the joys of southern California and then the rest of the world. If they got out into the open, it was game over.

He wasn't fighting the vampires; he was going against two Bringers, semi-human minions of the First. Two of these Bringers managed to get past the defenders upstairs and were trying to flank the Slayers. They wouldn't do more than provide a distraction, but that would be enough in this situation. The girls couldn't fight against two fronts and would be slaughtered. Then the Bringers would willingly die to feed the incoming vampiric hordes.

Trying to stop the Bringers from getting access to the school had lasted all of a minute as two of the humanoids attacked him and he found himself immediately on the defensive. His fight had pushed him towards the center of the fighting among the Slayers. The good thing was that one of his adversaries was distracted by a vicious jab by one of the Slayerettes, allowing him to slice through the thick neck of the creature with his trusty axe. The second Bringer, bigger and stronger than the one he had just killed, was far more of a challenge, taking every ounce of technique and strength Xander had to counter the swords and teeth of the crazy man trying to kill him. The removal of one of its legs by his axe gave Xander the advantage he needed to kill him, the Bringer was a male, with extreme prejudice. One of the stakes he carried was jammed deeply into the Bringer, but apparently not deep enough. Unfortunately, the axe was knocked from his grasp as his wounded attacker went after him one last time before its grievous neck injury killed him.

Forced into the cavern now where Buffy, Faith and the minis were fighting, one of the vampires lunged at him, wrapping its arms around a screaming and cursing Xander who had jammed a stake deep into its chest. The sternum offered resistance but somehow the wood slipped in between its ribs. It was a miracle that Xander had no intentions of looking at too closely. It dusted just as its putrid fangs touched Xander's neck. Xander Harris couldn't believe it. He'd actually survived combat against his second Turok-Han. It was still smaller than the big ones fighting the mini-Slayers, but it was tough fighting, tougher than most of the vampires that he had tangled with in the last five years.

The price of his survival had been high, though. The thing had certainly bruised his ribs trying to bear-hug him to get at his neck. The only good thing about that was that it had helped to push the stake through the tough sternum bone while bear hugging Xander. Putrid dust literally blasted over him as he fumbled to retrieve his axe. The axe was just out of reach. The young man wasn't defenseless, not with the weapons he was carrying but he needed that axe now, like Linus needed his blanket.

He hadn't even noticed that his fight with the second vampire had forced him towards the edge of the impossibly huge cliff. His sense of perception was off as the pain of his missing eye throbbed, reminding him of the agony of it being ripped from its socket a few days earlier. It was there that his one good eye saw the truth, something that his mind had nearly rebelled against. This place wasn't a huge cave as were his first impressions, but a cavern about the size of the Grand Canyon, underneath Sunnydale, California.

It was impossible.

Yeah, right.

This was Sunnyhell. Of course, there would be something like this underneath Boca Del Inferno.

From what he glimpsed, it looked like the entire bottom of the cavern floor was throbbing; the floor flowing in one direction, towards him and that was just the first wave. The imagery shocked him, however what stunned him even more was the fact that he could see everything in the cavern below. It took a second for him to realize that there was light down there, enough to see clearly. There was a glow in the far reaches of the cavern which was the source of the light. Only one reason came to his mind for that. It had to be a portal of some sort, allowing the vampire hoards and whatever else that the First had planned on bringing through access to Earth.

The others had to know what was coming.

"Buffy, Faith!" Xander yelled, just as a pair of hands grabbed him roughly by the shoulders forcing him to concentrate on his survival. How could he have not noticed something approaching him?

The power behind them was strong and he panicked. Instinct took over. The axe came up as Xander tried to gut the vampire from stomach to neck. However, despite the power he'd put into the swing the weapon had been easily deflected by a sword of all things. It was a big one as well, reminding Xander of a scimitar more than anything else.

_Great, vampire savages with swords._

"Good instincts," a man's voice told him.

Anticipating an attack, he turned swiftly, prepared to battle the new threat. Instead of a vampire, he saw a man. A smiling man with a strange looking mustache.

"But your form needs a bit of improvement," the man said. "Not much mind you, fine-tuning is a must and that comes from experience." Even though the man had deflected Xander's full attack he had at the same time pulled him from the edge of the abyss with minimal effort. He then jumped back and with that huge sword, decapitated a Turok-Han that had just climbed over the edge. Another vampire reached the edge and met the same fate. Three more of the creatures scrambled over the top and attacked the stranger who seemed to be having the time of his life and at the same time completely focused on his task of killing the undead assailants. "Just don't stand there, there are Turok-Han to kill," he yelled at Xander in an all too cheerful voice. "Don't let them tire you out. Save yourself for the others. These are just the youngsters. Wait until the mature ones get here!"

_Mature ones? Oh, crap!_


	2. Chapter 2

_**CHAPTER TWO**_

When Buffy glanced at the entity known as the First, it was doing something that the Slayer would have never expected. Its mouth dropped open at the sight of newcomers joining in the attack against its vampire army.

"Well, this is truly something unexpected," the Buffy-clothed First entity huffed.

From what Buffy could see of the apparition, who glared at the new group with obvious distain, was less than amused by their arrival. The fact, that it had stopped trying to distract her while the vampires were trying to eat her gave an indication of just how serious this new threat was being taken. There was real anger in the First's voice when it addressed the newcomers.

Faith had thrown the scythe to Kennedy who, after dispatching three Turok-Han had thrown it back to Buffy. The latest undead creature trying to kill her had thrown her into a wall before she could use her sword to destroy it. The ancient vampire was bigger than the others and with a start, she realized that it had been a smaller, faster demons that attacked earlier. That meant that the larger, more powerful ones like the one she fought before, were coming, or that that particular Turok-Han was one of their greatest warriors. That made sense because these vampires, although extremely vicious, weren't as powerful as the first one Buffy fought. Maybe they were weak from hunger. Who knew?

Buffy could feel herself healing and her 'self' becoming stronger to meet the challenge. Faith was probably experiencing the same although she had her doubts about the minis feeling the same. They were just–young.

* * *

"Why are you here?" the First had growled at the tall woman, who for the life of Buffy, showed all of the signs of being a kind of humanoid succubus.

In fact. Buffy's slayer sense was shifting, almost as it seemed confused by what it was sensing. Part of it was screaming 'vampire', the other part 'human'. Another part of her was unsure of what the woman really was. In short, she had no idea what how to categorize the woman the First was growling at. Whatever else she was, the mature woman was beautiful, in a dark and deadly sort in a way that Faith could be if she tried. The woman pulled out two long black blades from seemingly nowhere and allowed each to touch the ground. As they did so, the scythe in Buffy's hand vibrated. It seemed to want to pull her towards the woman as if sensing a threat that demanded to be destroyed. Was this woman some type of vampire or demon hybrid?

'_Just great,'_ she thought. _'More enemies to slay'_.

But the First seemed pissed, very pissed at the newcomer, especially when the woman had said, "we disagree with your plans. Granted, you're amusing in a dark, twisted, evil sort of way, but you don't know when to stop. That's why we're here."

The evil entity, now completely ignoring Buffy and her group for the first time since the battle started, was furious. "If you think you can stop me, then you're fools." it roared.

"No," the woman had countered. "We're Addams."

Buffy Summers saw Mortica Addams raised the twin blades and stare for a moment at two younger people accompanying her–her children, perhaps? The young man carried a huge double-bladed axe and glared murderously at the incoming vampires with a look that would make Hannibal Lector proud. The other young woman, twenty-something year's old, held twin swords very much like her mother's, but the weapons were curved shaped more like katanas. Like the others, these blades were pure black with silver inlay, and were very likely mystically enhanced.

The woman lifted her head and said to the two younger members, "remember your training. No dallying, there's too many opponents. Miscellaneous accidents with the young slayers or their friends are not permitted under any circumstance," she ordered in a manner that tolerated absolutely no disobedience. Not that they would do anything like that under these circumstances. Besides they were grown now, and she really didn't need to remind them, but old habits died hard. What was a mother to do?

There was a gleam in the woman's eyes that reminded Buffy of herself when she was in the midst of her bloodlust, killing vampires. "Consider it an alliance for now," the elder woman ordered in that oh-so quietly dangerous sexy voice.

Without hesitation, both of the young man and woman jumped into the midst of the undead and started butchering everything within reach.

The matron turned to an old woman who reminded Buffy of some sort of crazed witch and said, "grandmama, go help in the school. Lurch go with her. Protect the family. Protect the alliance."

The huge almost zombie looking giant in a butler's uniform no less, nodded and said, "yes," with a voice that was unbelievably deep and lifted his huge oversized mace into a defensive position. Buffy didn't want that thing swinging in her direction

"This is better than I hoped for!" The old woman began cackling as she headed towards the school hallway where Willow and company had established the second and last line of defense. Lurch followed quickly for one of his size.

"Thing, you're with me," the woman said and to Buffy's shock a disembodied hand ran (or rather scampered) up onto her shoulder and latched on to her dress. For the life of Buffy, the hand looked as if it was surveying the battle and the woman. The zombie-hand thing sported a partial glove with small dagger like needles.

"First, you won't win," the woman answered in an almost musical yet very sinister tone. "We won't allow it."

With those final words, she moved to support her young ones, the blades dispatching Turok-Han left and right with ruthless efficiency.

Buffy knew that she wouldn't have to worry about this Addams family safety.

"Your presence here is a mistake, Mortica," the First screeched. "You won't make a difference. I will see you all rot in this cave just like her," it said, pointing at Buffy. "I am forever," the First-Buffy turned to glare at the First Slayer, "and no one will stop me."

* * *

Kennedy was thankful for the quick relief. Some unknowns had entered the fray and she was fighting alongside of a young man close to her age, maybe a few years older. She couldn't tell. He was obviously human, and somewhat plump but he moved with a deadly, if somewhat crude grace. It was immediately obvious that his plumpness was due to muscle and not merely fat. The new slayer had initially assumed that he was a liability in this kind of fight. He was foolish to come here and now he would have to fend for himself because she didn't have time to protect fools who didn't know better than to get into a war they couldn't possibly survive in, except as cannon fodder.

But looks were deceiving as she quickly discovered. His movements, although crude and graceless to her eyes as any male she'd ever seen, were nevertheless extremely effective. What she originally dismissed as fat _was_ in fact muscle. Every stroke of his custom-made axe produced mayhem and destruction and he wasted no effort in his attacks. In fact he was as good as Xander, probably better despite being a mere human, one which hadn't worked with Slayers for years. The largest vampire she'd seen yet had rushed him only to be sliced into bits before crumbling into dust with the young man using a style that belied his seemingly crude technique. The axe itself was a thing of beauty. A vicious looking thing, it was made of iron with a silver coating. There were markings etched into it, runes of some type she guessed, and Kennedy's jealousy flared as she glanced lustfully at a weapon, one she could easily use at the moment instead of him.

But a quick glance from him told her everything she needed to know about the huge, hulking young man. He considered _her_ inferior and how dare he imply with a mere shifting of his eyes that she was less a warrior than he was!

Her inner slayer sense flared and screamed a warning a second before she was frozen in shock and felt an unimagined wave of pain. Instantly she understood that her anger against the oversized man had made her forget to mind her surroundings. One of the vampires slipped through her guard and had grabbed her weapon just as she had pulled back to strike at another. As a result she was slightly off balanced when the attack came.

Kennedy's momentary distraction was all it took for the second vampire she never even noticed, to ram his claw talon through her back pushing her right kidney through her stomach before it pulled back and clamped on to her vertebrae, snapping the backbone in two but still held onto the broken bones in a death grip. It was ensuring that none of its brethren would snatch it meal from it.

"Oh," she whispered before everything faded to darkness.

Eyes glazed, she slumped down. She was unconscious with the vampire still firmly holding on to her mangled spine, pulled her back. Its fangs clamped onto her paling throat and the creature fed greedily and as quickly as possible before the others could get to the body and try to steal its meal.

Smelling fresh blood, several other Turok-Han rushed towards the impeding meal trying to rip the meal from the vampire that had made the kill, only to be engaged by the two Addams siblings and an enraged Buffy.

The Slayer started swinging the scythe at a speed so fast that any normal person would only see the weapon as a blur. In her peripheral vison and to her surprise, the strange dark-haired younger woman had matched her ferocity with her own blades that sung with the wind. The unknown was strong, had excellent technique, and was obviously very experienced in the use of her weapons. In Buffy's opinion, the stranger was as good as Faith on her best day but that had to be impossible. She wasn't one of the potentials that Buffy knew of and the unknown's style was ample evidence that she had far too much experience killing things. She moved and felt like a Slayer, a very experienced one at that; but that was impossible.

"What are you?" demanded Buffy as both of them found themselves back to back against a group of encroaching enemies.

"Isn't it obvious?" the young woman retorted. Her voice was as calm as the sea and as cold as the wind.

It was clear that the stranger wasn't going to answer her question. Buffy's first impressions concerning this newcomer weren't favorable, not in the least.

_**Two hours earlier**_

This was the first time in Wednesday Addams' living memory that she seen the family being led to war by her parents and it was as exhilarating as it was disturbing. People who didn't know her family always assumed that the Addams and Frump clans were war-mongers. This was far from the truth. They had a live and let live mentality. Ask any vampire, or demon, or deranged human that crossed their path. If they were cool and sensible, the Addams family didn't have a problem with them. If they threatened the family, well…

Sure there had been 'disputes' from time to time, but nothing like this had ever occurred in the family historical records. Wednesday and her older brother Pugsley followed their parents Gomez and Mortica. _Everyone_ had their weapons at the ready. Uncle Fester and his crazed but loving and surprisingly (sometimes) gentle wife Dementia, were close behind while Grandmama and Lurch, the family butler and close family friend were bringing up the rear.

This adventure started when Grandmama almost suffered catatonia when the vision had first hit her. "The family is in danger!" she kept screaming. "Evil is making its move!"

At first, Wednesday wasn't overly impressed, and it took strength to keep her from rolling her eyes. Evil was always raising its head in Sunnydale. That wasn't anything unusual. Hey, that's what evil did.

Big deal. It was easy to understand what was consistent.

The family had almost interfered when the dumb blond god Glory threatened to destroy everything, but Grandmama had forbid any interference. Things turned out okay and Grandmama made a wonderful dragon wing soup after uncle Fester and her father caught the thing that had come through the dimensional rift. Darkness and evil were always testing itself in that little town. It made for a wonderful vacation spot if the family had moved there. It would have been anything but dull!

But the forces of darkness had really overdone it this time. This time, the magnitude of this threat had forced her parents to immediately investigate. What they saw coming had disgusted them. This in and of itself was a warning sign both children couldn't possibly ignore. The family usually kept an eye on such activities, however, they hadn't gotten a hint of what was happening until it was almost too late. Some powerful force had kept them in the dark and that alone was a cause for worry. Of course, it was purposely kept from them on the off chance that the family might disagree with the enormous scale of evil's intentions.

_That_ was evil's problem. It didn't know when to stop.

Sunnydale was about to become ground zero for a major apocalypse–again. And it wasn't like the other near-Earth ending scenarios that occurred about once every year for the last few years in that town. In its own way, it was as bad as Sleepy Hollow although that town, evil was in rest mode at the moment

In many ways, Sunnydale was so appealing to the Addams' somewhat dark nature that that the Addams family thought of moving there, but the lingering effect of Mayor Wilkins had soured the overall 'flavor' of Sunnydale.

Personally, Wednesday thought the reason that apocalypses happened so consistently had something to do with sun spots. She's always believed this since she was young, and no one would convince her otherwise until she became an adult. She knew she was being stubborn, but in her defense, in her earlier years, her older brother had been irritating her, while young Pubert was entering his murderous stage, so everyone had to be on their toes. Therefore, he received far too much attention. Her response was for her to become more contrary than normal which was her own way of aggravating the family to gain attention, to let them know she still existed, and to avoid resorting to some real family bloodletting.

Her parents and uncle found it so amusing and that aggravated her even more.

However, that was years ago, and Wednesday had to admit (forced really) that she was a mature woman of twenty-two now and very much like her mother in looks and attitude. Murderous rage had matured into cold calculation with a twinge of (dare she believe it?) mercy. She still enjoyed her feelings of contempt for Sarah Miller. Her dreams of tormenting her still made her smile after so many years.

Wednesday Addams had a long memory.

The Addams woman began to tolerate irritating things much more. She hated that and tried to resist, but maturity was crippling her. Pretty soon, she'd fall in love and marry (she would pity the man–unless he was like her father) and have children of her own, raising a new generation of Addams' to experience the world.

Watching her little brother's murderous antics reminded her of herself at that young age. His killer instinct was well honed, and she remembered the early days when she felt it in her best interests to remove him from the family. Those were fun times even if her little Pubert managed to survive most of her and Pugsley's 'attention'.

* * *

Both Wednesday and her older brother felt the touch of fear and anger emanating from both parents which was so unlike them. The full magnitude of the danger facing the family was made crystal clear when her mother hastily pulled out the black-light swords from the forbidden chest. In a house that was a museum, the swords were one of their greatest treasures. There were two pair, each hand-crafted by Aunt Toni-The-Truly-Mad Addams. That woman had spent seven whole nights enchanting the swords before placing them in the chest that was never to be opened unless it was an apocalyptic emergency–like now. Family rumors hinted (it was never proven in a court of law) that she had poured her own essence and that of her children into the weapons, which made sense since they had all acted like zombies for the rest of their lives after the ritual. Like they said, she really was mad and sloppy, too. She should have used someone else's life force in Wednesday's opinion.

Her mother had given Wednesday the curved pair to use as she saw fit on this special occasion. Dutifully, she made a slight slash across her palm drawing blood which she allowed to drip onto the swords. Both of the weapons laughed with joy, she noted as the blood was absorbed into the enchanted silver-impregnated steel.

_Typical._

It was always about the blood. Her mother did the same things with her own and those two swords screamed, "_mommy!_ Apparently, the blades were happy to get out and do something. Again, it was typical. Toni-The-Truly-Mad Addams' children were crazy, too.

Wednesday was just glad her mother hadn't given her those particular swords instead. She would have been irritated. Better insane laughter than "_mommy!_" being whispered every few seconds.


	3. Chapter 3

6

_**Chapter Three**_

_**Sunnydale, California**_

It was exhilarating watching Lurch drive like some glorious lunatic for the entire three and a half hours it took to get to Sunnydale. Never in Wednesday's entire life had she ever experienced him driving like that. Normally, he was so careful and considerate (boring) as his devotion to the family and its safety was absolute.

Not this time.

Wednesday assumed that people were getting out of the way because they sensed the urgency of their vehicle bearing down on them. Few people _wanted_ to wind up being road kill, but Old Lurch never seemed to have penchant for running people over no matter how tempting or deserving. And except for Pubert, who was really too young and reckless for an undertaking such as this, the whole immediate family had come. The youngest member of the family had been sent to stay with Cousin Itt and his wife to stay until this was over. Again, it was another indication of how bad things were.

When they reached Sunnydale, her mother and father were literally jumping out of the car, heading for the battle with Grandmama pointing the way. Rarely had Wednesday felt such intensity emanating from her parents as it was now. Their intensity only focused as they headed towards the sounds of battle.

Sunnydale High School, looking dark and foreboding. Both siblings were pleased by the 'feel' of this school.

"Why couldn't our school have felt like this when we were growing up?" yelled Pugsley as they rushed through a side door that suddenly appeared curtesy of grandmama. The old witch rarely used her powers like this but when she did…

"Yes," agreed his sister. "High school would have been worth it."

There was little doubt that this was their kind of school. According to the family rumors, both brother and sister would have excelled here. Oh, the mayhem they could have done here and not get caught! But Mama and Papa had always forbade it, something about the mayor of the town being unstable.

Both she and Pugsley were following closely, weapons in hand when it happened. It was then that Wednesday did something she'd never done before–purposely, that is.

She swooned.

A concerned Lurch was there to catch her in an instant before she hit the ground. Every member of the family stopped instantly watching over their little Wednesday while also watching for enemies. The could feel the unidentified power swirling around her.

"Let her be," Grandmama screech. "Her time has come."

* * *

'Are you ready to be strong?' a force asked Wednesday.

'I'm already strong,' she answered indifferently. _'A little more can't hurt. But it will be on my terms. I don't do control.'_

Whatever the force was seemed pleased at her answer.

And, everything shifted…

She suddenly found herself alone in a desert. It was desolate, offering no vegetation that she could see, and she found herself wandering around, searching the horizon for something that she could not see, but could sense was there, tracking her just as she was tracking it. Her dark clothes soaked up the sun and within moments she found herself shedding some of them using them to cover her head. She was fair-skinned, and the sun was irritating her, and Wednesday didn't like too much sun at the best of times. She was on edge now, waiting for some sort of attack, but none came, which set her more on edge. From her experience the worst attacks came when there was nothing around to attack you. Pugsley was a master at hide, seek and attack when they were younger, and she learned her lessons the hard way about keeping her guard up. By the time she reached the third sandhill, she saw her or rather it, sitting cross-legged glaring at her. In its left hand was a huge knife carved from bone, and in its right a wooden stake sharpened to perfection. Cautiously, Wednesday stopped and waited. The creature appeared to be a wild girl, younger, maybe about fourteen or fifteen at most, clothed in animal skins and adored with paint; runes if she interpreted them correctly. There was something about her that appealed to Wednesday. Pugsley certainly would have liked her. This was his kind of woman.

'_Who are you?'_ she asked, ready to fight the creature if necessary.

'Slayer' whispered the Wind. _'Of all of my daughters asked, only you and two others ever came to see. You are the last to hear the call.'_

'_I can feel them,'_ Wednesday said while watching the savage closely for signs of aggressive action. Whoever this was didn't, or perhaps couldn't use words as such. What she was hearing were impressions used as a form of communication. She could deal with that._ 'They answered before you came.'_

'_But only you came. Only two others have come before. You are strong. What I offer to all my daughters, I offer it to you. Take it.'_

'he Addams girl's eyes narrowed. 'No deal is without consequences.'

'_Yes,'_ confirmed the wind. _'Death is your gift.'_

'_What else is new?' _Wednesday responded dryly.

The Wind felt satisfied. _'Now the line will pass through the dark-haired one. A new line is made. When one is gone the other will endure. This is also my gift.'_

'_Why?'_

The Wind paused for a moment to consider its answer. Then it spoke to the young Addams woman. _'To survive. To fight. To win. To endure. To gladly destroy those who would dare to subdue us. Descendants I have two First daughters. I now have three.'_

She wasn't sure what those words meant but it didn't matter. She understood it at its core. _"I accept."_

Faster than Wednesday could counter, the Primal Slayer stabbed her in the heart with the bone knife. The Addams woman hadn't even seen her move. The First Slayer wrapped her arms around Wednesday in a savage, crushing embrace. Then warrior disappeared leaving Wednesday lying prone and struggling to get up from the burning sand. But far from being hurt, she felt renewed and invigorated as power flowed into her very essence. It was then and there that everything changed.

"Not just pretty words," whispered Wednesday as she understood what was happening now.

The Slayer spirit, using every bit of her power, had created something new on her own without the help of the shaman rumored to have created the slayer so long ago. In that instant, Wednesday knew why.

If all of the potentials were called and were lost in the upcoming battle, then there would be no new ones called in that line until they were born. That child would have to reach the proper age before then being called–if there were anyone left to help her to grow up. If a second line was begun, then a whole new set of potentials would be created separate from the first line. The Primal Slayer was hedging her bet and Wednesday had to agree that it was a good idea. That was something that Wednesday could understand.

The Slayer spirit was hedging its bet, using Willow's original spell to power its own. A new slayer line was created, one designed to complement the other. Both independent of one another yet never separated. Rivals. Sisters. Separate but never alone. Two lines now, but still one blood.

Family. Even if they occasionally tried to kill each other.

She was an Addams–they endured. "Until the end," she growled, matching the voice in the wind.

The force seemed to approve of her decision. Power flooded into her. Strength, energy, improved senses and reflexes. It was like one of Grandmama's potions, but permanent, more intense, rawer.

The Slayer essence filled her, the same as the others, but different than all of the rest except for one. There were three sister slayers now, two blood and now one of blood, so old but completely new. A sister line to help the sister line, always separate, but now never alone. Blood cousins. Never second, but a First with the First.

_Family_.

* * *

Her parents instantly noticed the difference as Wednesday stood up. All traces of her previous weakness had disappeared. Both of the senior Addams's approved of the power boost they felt coming from her, especially now although they would thoroughly investigate as soon as they had the chance.

Pugsley snorted. She'd be insufferable for a while and he'd have to think up new ways to aggravate his beloved sister without getting accidentally killed. They were getting too old for their games but still, sometimes they needed to be kids; after all, uncle Fester and daddy still had their fun.

* * *

_In a surreal place like this, this was well, surreal_ thought Xander.

Xander beheaded yet another prehistoric vampire who even in dusting was screaming its defiance at him, while reaching for his throat. The few Bringers that made it passed the Scoobies were rapidly diminishing in numbers as he, the slayers, and those weird people cut them down. That there were only a few of them that had made it into the cave in the first place had to be attributed to Giles and the others outside the breach, which is where he should have been, helping them fight. He wanted to help but he was outclassed fighting super vampires. The fact that he was still alive was a testament to pure luck and his slayer girls, not his skill.

_Or_, _was_ it?

Case in point. He felt the pure hatred and anger of the vampire he had been dueling with at being killed by meat. How Xander could feel this, he wasn't sure, but he knew in his heart that it was true. It was probably what he saw of the body language of the creature trying to kill him. What had been equally perplexing though was been how he had managed to survive this long against what were essentially uber-vampires, beasts that frightened modern vampires, and most likely fed on them as well. Was he somehow being protected?

Those thoughts were pushed aside when a voice brought him back to the present.

"Not bad," the man called Gomez Addams said. "These things are good for getting the old heart pumping, aren't they?" he continued. "Did you know they can track you by echo location?"

_Great, but not surprising, _as he thought about it.

Xander had come to a fast, dirty conclusion as he stole glances at the man called Gomez Addams battle his combatants. The broadly smiling man was a master swordsman. Every cut, every slice, every thrust and parry were performed with the greatest of efficiency. There was no wasted effort at all as far as he could see. The man's style reminded him of a dance in the exact same way as a Tai-Chi exercise reminded him of a flamingo exercise routine. Most people forgot that it was also a martial art. Xander hadn't and as much as he was interested in learning about the man who saved him from unintentionally falling off into the abyss was, the other two people engaging the vampires with him were equally as effective and as dangerous. He needed to know more about these people that dropped in from nowhere. For now, they were allies and much needed ones.

The bald-headed man using an absolutely beautiful two headed axe with such seeming abandon that Xander didn't want to be anywhere near him as he was swinging it, was also an excellent fighter. The other person with the two men was a double hatchet-wielding woman, also bald-headed for some reason but she sported a long brunette-colored pony-tail that reached down to her mid back. She was fighting alongside her counterpart. Her constant screaming, mixed with hysterical laughter confirmed to the young man that the woman had lost her sanity a long, long ago.

But, as wild as the hulking man and crazy woman were, neither never came close enough to Gomez to present a danger to him even when they were right inside of each other's space and because of that reasoning, Xander did something stupid.

He jumped into the middle of the three of the strangers and started fighting alongside them closing gaps as needed. These strange people were fighting against the darkness and while they may not be friends, they weren't the enemy as far as he could tell at the moment.

The bald-headed man hacked a Turok-Han in half just as he said in an all too cheerful voice, "my name's Fester. It means 'to rot'," he smirked. "I like your little axe!"

_Little?_ Well, compared to that monster he was using, it was in fact somewhat little. "Err-thank you."

Never taking his eyes off his newest opponent he continued introductions as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "That cute little screaming thing over there is my wife, Dementia."

"It means 'insanity'," the woman murmured at Xander in a way that made the hairs on his back stand up while gutting one of the vampires before taking its head thereby dusting it. Their axes had to be mystic weapons.

_Husband and wife. _

Rotting Insanity. Why did that sound so, so natural and normal?

"And young fellow, who might you be?" Dementia asked in a way that suggested that if she didn't like the answer, then she would go after him with the same intensity as she had attacked the vampires.

"I'm Xander," he said while getting some of his wind back. "Glad to have you here, I think."

"Of course you are."

So, Buffy and Angel, Buffy and Spike: they're like normal compared to these people, speaking of which…

"Just who are you people?" Xander yelled.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Friendemies**_

_**Chapter Four**_

"...Just who are you people!" yelled Xander Harris.

"We're the ones keeping evil from overdoing it," Gomez yelled back. "We're the Addams family." He turned for a second smiling grimly. "Fun time is over," he announced. "The big boys have finally made it to the top."

"What do you…" and the rest of the words died in Xander's mouth when he saw the things climbing over the top of the ridge. The man had mentioned that the bigger ones were coming earlier, but he hadn't fully realized what he meant. His mind had refused to fully process this new terror even though he had seen for himself a few minutes earlier.

The matured ones had finally reached the top and were scampering over each other in their zeal to get to their meals. Xander wasn't surprised when he realized that these had to be the same types that Buffy had such a hard time beating. Worse, they were carrying weapons, hand-made swords, huge clubs, and knives of various sorts. The Bringers were bad enough with their weapons, now the vamps were doing the same thing.

Gomez dispatched his latest attacker and swirled, facing the cliff. "Fester," he growled. His carefree demeanor had all but disappeared. "We've been playing with the kiddies. No more games."

"I'm right with you, brother," Fester all but growled. Any trace of jovialness had disappeared. Next to him stood his wife with her own pair of hatchets at the ready. She was quiet now but the gleaming fury in her eyes told Xander everything he needed to know.

The first two mature Turok-Han scampered from the abyss to stare at the human defenders. Unlike the younglings, they accessed their surroundings first. Both were carrying crude swords which looked more like clubs than anything else. They weren't much bigger than the younger ones, but their incisors teeth were huge and its other teeth were just as ragged. Their dark intent rolled off of them in waves.

"Cannibalism?" asked Gomez.

"The only way they could survive, brother," answered Fester. That was the most likely the reason why they carried weapons, not to uses against their prey, although that was certainly one of the reasons, but to bend of others of their kind as well as to subdue the weak. The creatures fed on each other eliminating the weak and in the process, becoming even more aggressive. "Xander, this is the reason why we carry enchanted weaponry. Your axe is nice, but…"

The young man responded automatically with words he'd used for years in his defense. "Magic tends to go screwy around me," he answered quickly, never taking his eye off of this new, far more dangerous threat.

"Tis, tis, my boy," said Gomez. "Sorry to hear that. But here," he continued as he pulled out a beautiful silver-plated rune covered machete and tossed it to Xander. "You might want to use this anyway, just in case. Never know when one of Grandmama's rune blades might come in handy." Then he quickly added, "my boy, don't let your fear of magic become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Xander's spine chilled as he heard the words and then caught the dagger. The words felt right as did the dagger. It was warm in his hand. It felt right for some reason. "Thanks," he uttered respectfully, as he gripped the weapon tighter. Wow, was he bonding to this weapon? It probably was and he didn't doubt it for a second. If he lived, maybe he would resolve to sit down and talk to this man and his weird family.

"Use it well, my boy." He turned to his brother whose gleaming eyes held the spark of madness that matched his wife's. "Xander, don't worry about Fester," he said as his elder brother began growling. "He's a very gentle soul. Wouldn't hurt a fly until he was trapped in the Bermuda triangle for all of those years. He was never quite right after that," Gomez shrugged. "But he won't hurt you."

"You don't know how glad I am to hear that," Xander responded, not believed everything that Gomez had just told him. Fester looked like he had the soul of a reformed axe murderer.

"Them, on the other hand," he said point at two monsters eyeing them cautiously before hunger overwhelmed them.

Both vampires attacked. Six more were right behind them. Behind them were thousands already climbing the wall with their claws and teeth. They were like roaches scampering up the wall.

The elders were finally coming up to play.

* * *

Faith quickly recovered from the vicious kick she received from one of the Turok-Hans eager to sample her blood. The second eldest slayer returned the kick as hard as she could, breaking a bone and then she crushed its head with the Troll hammer. Male or female, she didn't care; they both looked so much alike that you couldn't tell whatever it was anyway. The animalistic vampire was already dusting. Her clothes were already covered in vampire dust but again she didn't care. The slayer essence within was basking in glory as its host did what it was born to do, slay vampires; it didn't matter what kind.

Faith had nearly given up any hope of survival and started fighting with abandon, assisting the girls she could and quietly mourning the ones she couldn't. The Troll hammer was very effective against them but for this type of job it was a little too unwieldy. The scythe was made for this type of work, but she couldn't keep it for more than a few seconds at a time. Her sword was sufficient for the time being and all they had to do was to hold the undead for a few more minutes.

What she was concerned about were the mini-slayers. They were newbies, literally fighting for their lives with barely an inkling of what they could do and how to do it. The basic training had helped to save their lives but too many were falling, the numbers against them being too great. Honestly, she had no illusions about any of them getting out of this alive; after all, death was their gift. But she did feel sorry for the younger girls that hadn't had a chance to really experience life which was more than ironic as she had barely lived life herself. But she had made it to the age of twenty. Most of them hadn't and wouldn't make it to sixteen.

That was when the strangers had arrived, setting off her slayer senses. She had expected an attack from the weird group but instead they started laying into the vampires with an exuberance that she had to admire.

Exuberance? That's it. She had spent way too much time around Giles. But that she was dumb, but 'exuberance'? It wouldn't have been the word her mother would have said.

One of the strangers had saved Xander from falling over the edge where he fought a Turok-Han and now, Xander was in the middle of that group holding off the enemy and doing a pretty good job of it. Whoever–or whatever these people were, it was obvious that their mere presence had pissed off the First as soon as it had seen them, which made them alright in her book for the time being.

_If only Xander had stayed out of the direct fighting against these demons_!

* * *

\Within moments Faith found herself fighting alongside the obvious matriarch of the group. She was tall and slim with long dark hair almost the color of her skin tight dress (and how she moved in that very tight, full length thing was beyond Faith's comprehension), but move she did when it was necessary. In most cases, the stupid ones ran towards her seeking easy prey, and then they were dispatched with ruthless efficiency. There was style and grace to her movements and the swords she carried almost sang as she whirled them around. There was a darkness that seemed to shroud the woman's entire body except for the eyes. Faith hadn't seen anything remotely like that. She had to be some kind of witch.

The woman's eyes were pitiless yet held a passion that matched the utter coldness of the woman. What really set off her senses however was the zombified hand on her shoulder, assisting whenever and however needed. It was a freakish thing. However Faith couldn't deny its effectiveness. It it even jumped down and tripped the stupider vampires that had ignored it, causing them to fall right into those whirling blades. If it wasn't so freaky, she could have used an extra hand like that herself. She could think of a few things that she could use it for. And if it was really intelligent as she suspected…

A scream pulled her away from the woman as Vi, another slayette found herself facing a huge Turok-Han. The creature had already slashed her once and was about to repeat the attack. This Turok-Han was stronger than the others and young Vi, holding a sword didn't have a chance against it. Faith, engaged against a pair of vampires, did the only thing she could and threw the hammer to her. "Vi," she yelled as the hammer was sailing towards her.

Vi caught it and started swinging away at a now insanely hungry but bow more respectful target.

Faith had pulled out and readied her spar sword before the hammer was halfway to Vi and slashed at a particularly ugly vampire carrying a weapon that looked to be a cross between a sword and club. The creature was vampire-fast and brought the weapon down towards Faith's head. She tried to block it and succeeded but the blade was shattered, and the creature was preparing for another blow.

* * *

Buffy was screaming when she saw Faith's predicament and preparing to throw the scythe to her when Spike, the bleached vampire with a soul, was jumped by two Turok-Han. One had ripped the amulet from his neck while the other had grabbed the struggling Spike, who in turn was in full game face, slashing his ancient counterpart across the neck with a huge knife trying to decapitate the creature who screamed in agony. The amulet dropped to the ground as the fully vamped-out Spike fought back against both creatures trying to rip him apart.

He was losing.

It was a choice, Faith understood right then and there, a pivotal moment, one that would determine the fate of Earth. If Spike was killed, there was no way for them to stop the creatures from reaching the surface and start the beginning of hell on Earth. But if Faith didn't have a weapon, there was no way she could properly defend herself against her attackers that were as strong or stronger than she was.

There was a moment's connection between both prime Slayers, the decision made. For the sake of all, one would be sacrificed. That was the way it would –should be. Buffy went after Spike's attackers while the First laughed at the irony of a Vampire Sayer saving a vampire while allowing her sister Slayer to die by the hands of a vampire.

"Well done," it had told Buffy while brightly smiling at Faith with Buffy's face.

Faith was fast and getting faster, but the vampire was just as quick. She kicked it, then followed through with two of the most powerful punches she could manage. It grunted from the onslaught but seemed unaffected by the attack as it raised its sword/club once more. She was preparing for one final attack an act of defiance when the creature stiffened and roared loud enough to hurt Faith's ears. It turned to dust, its club-like sword dropping to the floor as a black sword completed its passage through its neck.

The woman, Mortica was standing in front of her holding both swords in a lowered position. Faith could only see the woman's eyes clearly as the rest of the face was obscured in near darkness despite the light in the cave. No, Faith corrected, it wasn't darkness. The woman was cloaked in shadow. There was a difference.

"What are you?" Faith asked. The words tumbled out even as she prepared for more incoming. She couldn't help herself. She had to know. "Are you a Slayer od some kind?"

Mortica merely smiled although it appeared more of a smirk really with a touch of attitude thrown in for good measure, as she handed her one of her swords. Her voice was cool, sensual and remarkably calm. "There are more than just Slayers in the world, child," she purred. "There are other forces, other defenders," and here she seemed to almost roll her eyes. "There are dark forces and other beautiful things that remain hidden until the time is right, and they are needed for one reason or another."

The sword felt cool to the touch and she could feel it trying to resist her motion to take a couple of quick practice swings. It was perfectly balanced but didn't feel right in her hands. It was fighting her.

No, she couldn't use this.

"The wielder must wet it," Mortica told her as she readied her other sword. Seeing what was climbing over the edge. The Addams woman growled, a sound that sent Faith's ears on edge. "Enough!" she said as she slit her dress to her thigh and moved towards her fellow companions with absolute murder in her eyes.

Nearby, one of the men's eyes was glued to the exposed leg and started speaking French.

Faith ignored all of that as she wet the blade with her blood, with a quick flick of her thumb.

_It was always about the blood._

Immediately, the coolness of the sword disappeared, replaced by a warming of the entire weapon. Now it felt right. It felt perfectly attuned to her now as it purred, "Faith –dark slayer. A gift by mother…"

"How about that?" Faith said. "A talking sword. I can deal. How good are you?"

"_Test me and see," _the blade whispered back.

There was a gleam in her eyes now. She would indeed test it. Let Buffy have the scythe, she thought. This weapon was hers for the duration and it was time to use it. she turned to see what was happening with her sister Slayer and was ready to join her. But Vi was closer along with two other Minis, heading straight for Buffy to aid her.

_**Meanwhile**_

Buffy flipped to her left, using her scythe to take the head to an incoming vampire as she tried to protect Spike. What she was unprepared for was that the creature had run headlong into the scythe, effecting sacrificing itself so that another of its kind could get a shot at the blond vampire. The blond Slayer knew that the destroyed vampire's action was completely abnormal. These feral creatures would never sacrifice themselves for another of its kind unless it was ordered and forced to. It meant that the First had something to do with it. The First was clearly afraid and was hedging its bet even further. The amulet was critical and the First knew it.

Buffy jumped back. This unexpected tactic, self-sacrifice by the enemy, was not appreciated and she let her displeasure be known as she rammed the weapon into its throat and viciously twisted until the creature's head popped off.

Spike, one of the Scourges of Europe was a master vampire and a survivor, but he couldn't effectively fight against the two matured Turok-Han that had attacked him with a third one coming to assist. Buffy had tried her best to get to him, to help him, but she was being swarmed. Two more of the demons had jumped her attacking with those club-like swords, forcing her to focus her attention on them. One of the creatures slapped her, drawing blood. She returned the favor. However, that exchanged had forced her away from Spike.

Spike had backhanded one of the demons knocking it back a couple of feet but then, he cursed his mistake as the others were on top of him.

As Buffy turned, she saw Spike turn his head towards her and mouthed, "I'm sorry," just as one of the creatures slashed him in half with its sword. The blond creature of the night crumbled into dust.

The First laughed uproariously as Buffy screamed, a primal sound that echoed throughout the cavern. The scream served only to attract another three vampires' attention to her. In a moment she was fighting five of them, scythe blocking, slashing and stabbing as they pressed their numerical advantage. Spike was gone, the plan in ruins, but that couldn't be helped now. The Buffy part of her was demanding, '_no tears, no tears'_! The Slayer essence within her and also mourned for a brief moment of the loss of an unlikely ally and then came to the fore. Buffy became Slayer power personified as she laid waste to the three closest of her attackers. The oldest surviving Slayer decimated everything within reach, and it was still not enough. The two surviving attackers matched her while the First laughed with joy.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter Five**_

"Nice try, Buffy," the First croaked gleefully. "You almost had me concerned once I saw the amulet and figured out your plan. But I should let you know that the elders of my minions are stronger than you are with your wound and all. Don't think I haven't noticed your power boost. That won't help either although it may prolong the fight for a few seconds more," he mused. "Well, well, look at that. My minions seem to like the taste of Slayer blood. I imagine that you're tired anyway with your undead lover dust in the wind now." The evil spirit clothed in the Buffy form turned its head and sighed maliciously. "Oops, there goes another one of your little girls. See what I mean? I mean, look at those little vampires go. They really like Slayer blood. It must have that special flavor not found in other people." The Buffy–First tucked her hand under her chin in thoughtful contemplation. "Spike wasn't that bad when you think about it but well, I guess he wasn't good enough." It smiled. "And, neither are you."

Buffy flipped over two Turok-Han slashing with her scythe as she did so. The back flip surprised the vampires but both managed bring their weapons up in time to keep from being injured or destroyed. As the blond attacked again, the closest vampire dodged the strike. The other had picked up a discarded weapon and went on the attack trying to gut the young woman and then Buffy was on the defensive as the other vampire joined in the attack with a huge club. She was in trouble as several more creatures were rushing towards her, ignoring more vulnerable targets. There was nothing she could do now, her plan ruined by Spike's death.

The young woman had thought of his death so many times, but now that it had actually happened, she wasn't sure what to feel. He was the deadliest of enemies, then the best of friends, a murderer, and then a protector. In her heart she understood that she was good enough, strong enough to fight, but ultimately for what? Life, death, life again and then death, and only to be called to life again in order to face death. What was the point?

She fully expected to be overrun any second, but the rush never happened. The dark-haired, young woman was there, taking on the proto-vampires with her black, silver-laced rune swords. Her style was as fluid as the older woman with her, who just _had_ to be her mother, was not. The mothers' style was something completely different, static, but not. She didn't know how to describe it.

And the older woman d it was plain that the mother was a master in her own right. The elder woman flowed as she attacked, and the unprepared vampires didn't have a chance. Their weapons were useless as they broke and shattered against what Buffy knew had to be enchanted swords. The First screamed in frustration at the two women. "Why won't you Earth-spawn die already?" And in response a dozen Turok-Han rushed them.

Buffy Summers and Wednesday Addams didn't wait for the creatures to run towards them. As one they attacked, swords and scythe tearing into the enemy.

Wherever the girl had received her training, it had been impressive, mused Buffy and being next to her somehow energized her in ways similar to how she felt when she was fighting alongside Faith, but this feeling was different, kindred but somehow alien. Obviously, she was a Slayer, as she could feel the connection. But she was also a newbie, no matter what her training and Buffy felt the need to make sure that she could protect her.

"Be careful," she advised. "They're dangerous."

"I know dangerous they are," Wednesday answered as she decapitated another Turok-Han as it had been viciously kicked in the knee causing it to drop its guard for an instant. The young woman paused for a second, analyzed her enemy and went on the attack with a cold detachment that sent a shiver down Buffy's spine. And for some reason the dark-haired young woman seemed shrouded in shadow like the other woman but even more so.

Buffy's alpha took the way the stranger had answered as an insult and as a threat to her position. Not even Faith had triggered this intense a response. "Look," she growled as they both took out their closest opponents. "You, you may have had some training but if you want to survive, you will listen to me when I tell you something."

"Says the fake blond with the inferiority complex," Wednesday countered. She swung and the laughing swords cut through an attacking vampire's club and its body with minimal effort. The creature screamed in agony even as it turned into dust.

Unlike most vampires, the ancient ones didn't pause to reconsider their adversaries. Instead, the fighting and dying of their own seemed to encourage them. The fighting seemed to inflame them into more acts of ferocity.

Buffy noticed but didn't really care. Her focus had shifted somewhat to this new Slayer. "When this is over," she growled, "we're going to have to have a talk."

"It won't happen if your style continues to be that sloppy," retorted smoothly.

Buffy was angry now. "Yeah, we're going to have that talk. That would be of the good," she announced as she slammed into one of her attackers.

Buffy was aware of her surroundings, something that Giles constantly impressed to her when she was younger/ bitter experience added to that awareness, so she didn't fail to notice that underneath Wednesday's clawed shirt and trousers–the A dams' woman really had a thing for black. It was so morose with no real style at all–that she was wearing some type of thin armor! Where she'd get that from? "You had the need to protect yourself," Buffy snarked. "Must not be as confident as you pretend to be, huh?"

Wednesday raised her eyebrows as she engaged yet another vampire. This one was wary of her and the now singing swords taunting it. Instead of immediately attacking it stalked her cautiously trying to figure out the best way to get through her defenses. It reminded her of her brother in the good old days of their youth when he had his favorite axe and she her beloved butcher knife. He was wary of Wednesday and rightfully so. The Addams woman never stopped focusing on her opponent as she counter Buffy's blunt threat and stupid accusation. Wednesday responded in kind, using words with the same precision as a neural surgeon operated.

"Only a fool would come into this sort of battle without some kind of defensive protection. Anything would help, especially for the younger girls with almost no experience. But you didn't think about that, did you? Apparently, that dye has stunted your speech as well."

"What? What's wrong with my speech?" shew hissed as she killed another one of the cave vampires. How dare that, that person insult her blondness? But this woman with no sense of taste, wasn't finished yet,

"You may have to stop saturating your hair with it. Allow your brain to air out." Wednesday spare her a glance. "If I spoke like you, I know I would."

The raised eyebrow that Wednesday sent in her direction was nothing less than a de facto a declaration of war. Buffy quelled the urge to teach the unknown Slayerette her place right then and there. Teaching would have to wait though. Everyone was slowly being forced back to the entrance but the ever-increasing numbers coming after them.

* * *

This fight was becoming untenable. There were too many vampires climbing over the edge.

Wednesday was no fool. All of them would have to give ground in order to properly defend themselves. The blond bimbo who reminded her for some reason of Sarah Harmony Miller irked her, something that was never a good thing. The blond who had insulted her, or had tried to, by asking here why she named after a day of the week, was an amazing fighter. But Wednesday knew she could beat her. Buffy didn't know how to cheat and that was her weakness.

Another thing was that the Addams family had kept up with the Slayers and their adventures. Most of the Slayers died too quickly but Buffy had survived because she had 'family' to watch her back. Xander and the others interested her. He was surrounded by chaos and was destined for great things according to Grandmama. The stories of Faith and Buffy's antics were amusing but didn't have enough bloodletting for someone their age. And Buffy had one weakness that Wednesday intended to exploit for all it was worth.

"Hey middle-of-the-week girl, incoming on the other minis."

"I know, Biffy."

It's Buffy," Buffy snarled.

"That's what I said, Biffy dye-girl."

_Oh, it was on._

_**Xander POV**_

True to form as with any carefully prepared plan, the instant it was implemented, said plans fell into the toilet. The entire plan collapsed the moment Spikey-boy had turned into a pile of dust.

The young Slayers were ferocious, but they were outnumbered and losing. Every lose tore at his gut but he ruthlessly suppressed those feelings that threatened to turn into despair and grief. The remnants of the 'soldier' part of him had come to the fore and was guiding him through the battle. Whatever part the soldier was had experienced the deaths of fellow soldiers and friends and helped Xander get through the immediate circumstances so that he could survive. There was nothing he could do now and any lapse in concentration would result in more deaths. The last thing the young man wanted to do now was to freeze during the battle.

But this battle was hard, being fought against enemies that were far stronger than he and he was exhausted. The only reason he was still functioning was because of adrenaline and the power that was boosting him through the borrowed axe–which he had to admit was really, really nice–which had been loaned to him by the hulking man creature who called himself Fester. That was the only thing keeping his mind-numbing fear from making him scream and run away in blind panic.

No, that wasn't true. He was here because he _wanted_ to be here, making a difference no matter how small it might be. He'd never abandon them even when it meant death. His friends never fully understood that but right now he could care less. Xander was still in the middle of the pack with the Addams family, supporting them as they guarded him. It was interesting that Fester and Gomez kept protecting him and giving him bits of advice on axe handling, words which he took into complete consideration as said advice had saved his life a more than a few times.

If he didn't know better, it seemed as though they liked him even though they didn't know him. Fester kept looking at him as if he were a long-lost cousin, and Gomez just gave him that crazed but affectionate smile that could have meant anything. Xander just took it in stride. There'd be time enough for questions later if they survived this. Right now, he was busy ducking and weaving against a very small but vicious Turok-Han. The creature was a knife-wielding maniac with very long fangs. He looked like a subset of the regular ones, but he was fast and vicious with hands whose fingernails that were more actually described as extremely long claws, that reminded Xander of Wolverine or more precisely, the woman he had fought who had his same mutation in the movies. All of his attention was focused on trying to evade and kill this nasty vampire thing.

To aggravate matters, he was still aware of his surroundings, particularly of Fester's obviously insane bald-headed, ponytailed wearing, dual axe wielding wife. The woman was crazy, but she could handle those axes, one of which flew rather too close for comfort. One of her axes just happened to fly in his direction and decapitate Xander's adversary, turning it into nothing but putrid dust.

Fester just smiled at Xander's terror during that moment. "What can I say?" he said as he dueled with two vampires who were clearly wary of him. "But, don't worry. She's just a bit excited."

He'd seen demons less excited than that, but he was smart enough not to say anything to people that were actively helping to keep him and his friends from being eaten.

Xander and his companions, Fester, Gomez, and Dementia, had created a wall of mayhem and death to anything that came anywhere near them, giving the girls a bit of breathing room, to his utter surprise. The Slayettes were defiant and doing an amazing job but to everyone's dismay, their numbers were rapidly shrinking. They were however doing well and being flanked by Gomez's wife and Faith with the silver-laced blades they were able to regroup before being swarmed.

Gomez, ever the loving husband made sure that his wife was doing well. By the way she was moving he had nothing to worry about. But together, she and the Slayer with here were death incarnate, poetry in motion.

* * *

Faith felt an excitement that usually only Buffy elicited when she fought her. It was that of an equal. Buffy was a little stronger than she was being the elder Slayer, but not by much. She had felt her strength growing in this conflict as the Slayer essence built up inside her to meet this challenge. After all she was a Vampire Slayer and this was her calling, to slay vampires. She and Buffy, both 'old ones' so to speak, were mature enough for the Slayer essence to modify them as needed. The younger Slayers were babies, strong but not able to adjust in minutes what should take years.

This fight had shown Faith, why the old fogies on the Council did their best to keep Slayers from surviving more than four years. It was obvious that the older the Slayer was the stronger she became. The Council couldn't tolerate their power being threatened and that's exactly why she and Buffy were such threats. This was especially true of Buffy who had called them on it during the Glory situation. Too bad, since they were all dead and unable to see what they all had become and what a Slayer truly was. Good riddance. Let Giles rebuild it if they lived.

For a non-Slayer, Faith considered Mrs. Addams as poetry in in the study of controlled violence and Faith felt the need to follow her example. The older woman had a balanced style that Faith and Buffy were still developing.

Faith was never still, being everywhere at once while the older woman, for the most part remained in place, except when she was forced to move and when she did, she was like whirlwind. The dark-haired Slayer had never seen anything like it. The woman's hair never moved out of place. Mortica and Faith worked excellently with each other defending and attacking as if they'd being fighting together all of their lives.

It was, however, only a matter of time. The others knew it, also. Towards the edged the vampires were staring to swarm over one another to get to them like mutated roaches.

The First couldn't help but smirk.


End file.
